


do you need somebody

by theragingstorm



Series: New Earth-1 [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gang Violence, Gen, Happy Ending, Jason is a literature nerd, Jason’s Issues, Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Parenthood, Sex workers, also if you’re Ukrainian I apologize, background Dick Grayson/Barbara Gordon - Freeform, they have a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 08:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15703905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theragingstorm/pseuds/theragingstorm
Summary: In the sudden loss of a friend, Jason finds himself responsible for her two children.Then he has some realizations to come to.





	do you need somebody

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place within a series, but it can stand on its own if you haven’t read the earlier works. 
> 
> Also, I’ve been thinking about this concept for a long time, and did not intend for it to be finished on Jason’s birthday, but...well. Serendipity, I suppose. Happy birthday, Jason.
> 
> Title from “What Is A Man” by Dan Owens

It all started out on a fairly ordinary late September night in Gotham City.

Layers of smog hung low over the rooftops, obscuring the moon and stars. Searchlights pierced the gloom, accompanied by the distant wail of police sirens. Above it all, the Bat-Signal glowed through the night, illuminating the steel and concrete, casting a light for one family to follow.

“Jason, did you _really_ name a female dog Django?”

And to tease each other by.

“ _I_ didn’t name her,” Jason said, rolling his eyes. The East End stretched out before him, an endless array of stink and neon and poverty and sin. His birthplace.

He crouched on his rooftop, the weight of his weaponry pressing against him from under his jacket. A chill pierced him through the leather.

“Roy named her. He thought it was cool. Also, he thought she was a boy.”

Over the coms, Dick burst out laughing, while the others alternately chuckled or sighed.

“We both wanted to name her a certain way because she was a rescue, and her first owner totally controlled her...I wanted to name her after Ruth Jamison, or Celie, or Lisbeth Salander, but it was too late, by the time Roy listened to me and acknowledged that she was a girl, she wouldn’t respond to anything else.”

“Well, at least you’re not out there misgendering anyone, Jay,” Tim remarked almost cheerfully. “Even dogs.”

“Don’t any of you have anything better to do?” Bruce growled, cutting off the conversation.

“Do you, B?” Stephanie challenged.

“Yes. I’m tracking Killer Croc; he’s on the hunt again. And you all know —”

“— ‘no real names in the suit,’” everybody chorused in tired unison.

“Yeah B, we know,” Dick grumbled. “Look, the rest of us aren’t tracking Killer Croc. You wouldn’t let anyone come along, after all. And as to all the other major activity tonight, Flamebird is already on Penguin, Azrael and Batwing are already on Victor Zsasz, and Huntress and Manhunter are already on Harley and Ivy. We’re bored. We’ve got nothing to do. Even Oracle went back to monitoring the Birds of Prey.”

“You _would_ know what Oracle’s doing,” Steph teased him.

“Lay off, Batgirl,” Jason groaned. “It’s not even fun to tease him about her anymore. There’s nothing to tease about.”

“Their domesticity?” Damian suggested.

“Yeah, but they don’t get embarrassed by that anymore either. I suppose I could tease him about their sex life —”

“ _Hood_.”

“— but then B cuts me off exactly like that.”

“You can’t talk about sex lives,” Dick said indignantly while Tim made uncomfortable noises. “It’s impossible to sleep at your apartment when Lian’s not there.”

“Jealous that I get laid more often than you do?” Jason jeered.

“ _Hood_.”

“First of all, no you don’t. Second of all, no again, I’m annoyed that my brother and one of my best friends act so inconsiderate.”

“Oh right, because I’ve _never_ had to listen to Barbie get reacquainted with your namesake.”

“Why are they arguing about this?” Duke wondered out loud.

“Like he said. Nothing better to do,” Cass replied, unperturbed.

The two oldest boys continued.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“ _You_ don’t change the subject.”

“Don’t be so immature.”

“ _You_ don’t act like you’re so mature just because you’re the oldest and the only one married with a kid.”

“Both of you!” Bruce shouted, startling everyone. “Hood, you especially! For the love of god, find something productive to do, or I’ll find something for you!”

Jason hung up, grumbling under his breath.

“Fucker,” he muttered about his father, maneuvering down the fire escape. “Dick and I were just bickering, it wouldn’t be the first time. Trust that asshole to act like the victim because we have nothing to do, because he took the last batch of crime-fighting.”

He chuckled slightly to himself.

“Though it _is_ nice to know that there’s still something I can annoy Dick about.”

He landed on the ground with a heavy, yet graceful, _thump_ , his weapons rattling.

“And there is, at least, something I _can_ do tonight.”

 

* * *

 

In his time as the Red Hood, Jason had found all sorts of ways to find information in places the other Bats didn’t tend to go. But his favorite place to find information had to be in the minds and mouths of local sex workers.

Almost everybody who was anybody in Gotham, and even lots of people who weren’t anybody, solicited sex workers, and when people were drunk on endorphins, they tended to talk. They tended to brag. They tended to leave things lying around. You wanted to find something on someone, you were guaranteed to find something from a sex worker.

The East End was the worst place to conduct sex work, but it was still one of the most common places. Many of them were much safer under the watchful eye of Catwoman — and Jason was grateful to Selina for that. But she couldn’t protect everybody alone, and that was where he came in.

It was after sundown, and Calvin Raymond’s girls had gotten started on the night shift.

Approaching their favorite street, Jason instantly spotted five of the six women working under that particular pimp. Scarlett, Jewel, Fay, Rosemary, and Miranda. The only one missing was Skye. But he hadn’t seen Skye in months.

Miranda spotted him first, and her magenta-lipsticked mouth spread into a genuinely delighted smile.

“Hey, look who it is!”

The five women crowded around him in an instant, and Jason’s heart felt light seeing them again. They were all of different ages, though not too far apart; Fay was the youngest at twenty-two, and Rosemary was the eldest at thirty. They all wore bright, suggestive clothing and heavy makeup. They were all of different ethnicities: Miranda was Puerto Rican, Scarlett was Swedish (and _very_ blonde), Jewel and Rosemary were black, and Fay was half Thai and half Irish. They all had one thing in common: they’d all had pimps who’d taken far more than their share from their salaries before the Red Hood had stepped in. Calvin Raymond was a weak, cowardly man, but much of his fear was of the Hood, so he treated them fairly and let them keep what they made.

Jason made sure to check up on them regularly nonetheless.

At least, when he knew where they were.

“Hey ladies,” he said warmly. “How are you all doing?”

“Pretty good, actually,” Fay said brightly, brushing her long dark hair over one shoulder. “I got a new regular. He thinks he’s a dom, but he’s the worst dom in the world. He can barely keep it up, and ‘sessions’ only last half an hour each of ‘yes Master’ and ‘no Master’-ing. Easiest hundred bucks in the world to make.”

“You remember Reggie?” Jewel asked. Her eyeshadow was glitter gold, and drew one’s gaze every time she blinked. “Poor guy. He’s still seeing me, and he’s still paying twice what I charge every time. I think he’s got a crush on me.”

“Lucky bitches,” Scarlett grumbled. In honor of her name, her lips and nails were painted a shocking shade of red. “I’m still stuck with Fatso Francis. When will his wife learn to give a decent blowjob so I don’t have to?”

“ _I_ could teach his wife that,” Jason grinned, wrapping an arm around Scarlett’s shoulders. Despite herself, she relaxed under his friendly touch.

“So based on that, I’m guessing it’s still a no-go on pussy for you, Hood?”

“Yeah, still a no-go. Sorry ladies.”

“Too bad,” Rosemary said lightheartedly. “I’d do you for free.”

“I’m honored. Really.” He paused, adopting a more serious tone of voice. “Hey, uh. On a different note. Do any of you know where Skye is? I keep checking in with Raymond and he tells me she’s okay, she’s not hurt or sick or anything, but I haven’t seen her on the street since April.”

They all stopped laughing, and exchanged looks.

“You don’t know? I thought you knew.”

“Don’t know what?”

Scarlett looked awkward. Rosemary cleared her throat, running her hand through her long, thin dreadlocks.

“Skye’s...Skye’s _pregnant_ , Hood.”

 

* * *

 

Unlike his family members, Jason had no qualms about admitting that he had favorites. And though he had made genuine friends with many of his allies, usually by complete accident, Skye was definitely one of those favorites.

He’d quickly gotten her new address from the other women, and was at the apartment complex in minutes, walking on the rooftop towards her window in classic Bat-style.

He bent upside down over her window and knocked.

The window flew open.

“What the hell is —” Her irritated expression immediately softened. “Oh. Red Hood. Huh. Well, I can’t say I didn’t expect that you’d come looking me eventually.”

Even Jason knew that she was very beautiful. Her thick black hair had been cut into a curly bob, her wide-set brown eyes almost liquid, framed by very dark lashes. Her skin was a warm, lovely amber, and even without makeup, she had a good complexion and a nice smile.

As she backed away enough for him to slide through her window, he saw at once that Rosemary had — wow, Rosemary had _not_ been wrong. Jason had thought that he couldn’t be taken aback by pregnant women anymore, even heavily pregnant women, but Barbara had been medium-sized at best compared to Skye.

“You’re staring,” she said, smiling a bit dryly.

“Sorry.” He looked her in the eyes. “I was worried about you before, is all.”

“And here I thought our relationship was strictly professional.” She sat down hard in a threadbare armchair. “Should’ve known. All my strictly professional relationships involve a lot more nudity.”

Jason couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, that ain’t happening.” He sat down on the floor next to her, taking off his helmet. She was wearing only a big t-shirt and panties, and eye-level with her knees, he could see how swollen her feet and the veins in her legs were. “So...you’re having a baby.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.” She paused. “But no actually, I’m having two babies.”

“...Jesus.”

“Yeah.” She drew a hand through her hair. “At least, I think I am. I couldn’t afford a sonogram, I’ve been saving my money for baby things. The people at the free clinic just guessed that it was twins.”

“I’d believe it. My sister-in-law had a baby this spring, and I’m certain you don’t have just one in there.”

“Oh, I definitely believe it.”

They were quiet for a minute. Despite himself, Jason kept thinking of his eldest brother.

“Is the dad in the picture?”

Skye scoffed, then sighed.

“There are about ten different guys who could be the dad, and I promise you none of them would want to deal with being the father of a hooker’s kids.”

“Bastards.” He shifted in place.

They were quiet for a while longer, and Jason felt an undercurrent of anger. Dick, Roy, Bruce, they had all taken responsibility for the kids they’d fathered. They all loved those kids, undeniably loved them. But he, and plenty of other people he cared about, knew far too well that not all men were like that. That they could care less about their own kids and their wellbeing.

 _No kid deserves to know that their own parent doesn’t love them,_ he thought.

“Hey, uh, Skye.” He looked up at her through his domino mask. “Do you want these babies?”

She looked surprised at the question, then a genuine smile crossed her tired face. She laid a hand on her belly.

“Yes. I do. Granted, I’m not in an ideal place to raise kids, but I do love them. I want them to grow up, to be happy.”

He exhaled, tilting his head back.

“Good. If you weren’t gonna love them, I would’ve had to kick your ass.”

“Nah. I could take you.” She gently tapped his shoulder. He started, then smiled. “Be safe out there, Hood, and after they’re born, I’ll show you pictures.”

“Definitely gives me incentive to be safe then.”

 

* * *

 

Jason turned on his com one more time before he arrived home that night.

Bruce was off. The others were still on.

“Hey, fuckfaces,” he said affectionately.

“Hey, Jason,” they all said in unison, somewhat exasperated. He smiled at that.

“Don’t _ever_ hang up on me like that again,” Dick scolded.

“Sheesh, there you go again. You know, you’re getting boring in your old age. Don’t tell me you talk to your wife like that.”

“He does not,” came Oracle’s dry tone, and the smile broke into a grin.

“Good to hear from you too, Barbie.” His voice was still affectionate. “Alright, I’m going to bed. Sex may or may not happen.”

“TMI,” Tim sighed while Damian grumbled a bit.

“Night, fuckfaces.”

“Night, Little Wing.” Barbara sounded amused.

He hung up, then stretched, pulled off his helmet and domino, and headed inside.

He’d been lying, he was too tired for sex. But though Lian had long since gone to bed, Roy was still awake, bent over some gadget he was tinkering with, prosthetic clicking while his flesh arm bunched and flexed with its muscle, his long red hair escaping its ponytail, and damn it if seeing him didn’t make Jason’s chest warm.

Roy looked up as the door clicked shut.

“Hey honey,” he greeted him, his voice rough, but soft. “Long day at the office?”

“The gang feuds are getting worse, Bruce is being an ass, and that one bastard coke dealer tried to stab me in the leg. Again.” He kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the couch, leaning into his boyfriend’s warmth. “Also, Skye — you remember I told you about Skye? — is having twins soon, and I had no idea.”

“Yeah, but I had another PTA meeting today.” Roy kissed his forehead. “And I was facing all those middle-class moms as my amputee, former addict, raised by a Navajo tribe, former single dad, living unmarried with another man, daddy-issues ridden, tattooed self.”

“My day was still worse.” Jason snuggled into him, and they both sighed in satisfaction. “You fed and walked Django, right? And Lian did all her homework?”

“Yeah, that right there’s why I’m a former single dad.” Roy looked at him in slight exasperation. “Jay, I can handle taking care of my own daughter and my own dog.”

“Your own dog who you misgendered on her first day.”

“God, shut up about that, will you?”

“Never,” he smirked. Then, seriously: “Roy, you know it’s not that I don’t have faith in you. I just...I dunno, they’re my responsibility too.”

“Yeah, I do know.” Roy set aside his gadget and wrapped his flesh arm around Jason’s shoulders. “That’s why you’re a good stepdad. And a good dog dad to boot.”

Jason felt his face heat up, hiding his smile in Roy’s shoulder. They stat there for a while, breathing in each other’s presence.

“Hey, tell Dick when you see him that you just realized I’ve been a dad for longer than him. I want to see his face.”

“You tell him,” Roy retorted.

“It doesn’t mean anything from me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Suck me.”

“You wish.”

 

* * *

 

He stopped by her apartment complex again a week after that.

“You could just use the front door, you know,” she said as she opened the window for him.

“Old habits.”

She raised an eyebrow at that, moving into the kitchen.

“Odd, considering that that seems like a very Bat thing to do. I know you sometimes run with them now, but...”

Jason privately cursed himself. Skye held up a kettle.

“Coffee or tea? I only have decaf and herbal right now, sorry.”

“Tea’s fine.”

Skye’s cheap ginger tea wasn’t nearly up to the standards of Alfred’s elegant, fastidious brews, but he still thought fondly of his butler, and of her, as he drank it.

She sat opposite him with a cup of her own, and he was halfway done with his before he spoke again.

“I was Robin.”

She nearly choked on her tea, staring at him incredulously.

“You told me personal shit last week. And I guess now I owe you to say...the rumor’s true, I was one of the Robins once. Not a lot of people outside the Bats know that.”

She sat back, still staring.

“I believe you,” she said, unusually soft. “But it’s hard to picture all this —” She gestured expansively to his chest and shoulders, “— as a Robin.”

He huffed, then chuckled a bit.

“I’m actually quite a bit younger than people think. Just turned twenty-one in August. Plus, I used to be a _lot_ smaller. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she said genuinely, before smirking again. “The big bad Red Hood was once a little Robin. Who would’ve thunk it?”

“I regret telling you already.”

She laughed, throwing her head all the way back, her hair swishing and her brown eyes crinkling.

“Anyway, though. How are you and Arsenal doing?”

He actually brightened at that.

“Had our one-year anniversary back in June,” he bragged. “Rescued a dog together last month, a big black German shepherd, and she’s the sweetest animal in the world. And I think I’m officially now his daughter’s favorite parent.”

“Because you let her do things her dad doesn’t?”

“Why else? Plus, I can take her to see my baby nephew and let her think she’s babysitting.”

“The nephew’s Nightwing’s kid, right?”

“Yeah, the condom breaks once, and from then on you’d think he and my sister-in-law came straight out of a fuckin’ movie.”

_Although I doubt there are a lot of movies where a Romani guy and a paraplegic woman are the romantic leads._

“Some people are just lucky, I guess.” She traced her finger around the rim of her mug.

“Took ‘em long enough to get that luck, though.” He finished his tea, then reached across the table and took her hand. “Hey, look. I know you’ve only got a couple weeks left of being pregnant, but you should still have good healthcare. Next chance you get, go to Doctor Leslie Thompkins’ clinic.” He pulled out a pen and a piece of paper and scribbled down the address. “Tell her I sent you. It’s where the other Bats go, she promises discretion, and it was where my nephew was born.”

Skye gazed at the address like it was too good to be true.

“You don’t have to do all this for me, Hood.”

“Yeah, I do. I know where you’re — and everyone else in the East End is — coming from. Difference is, I’ve got more resources than even most rich men can dream of, and I gotta do something with them.”

She lifted her head, and when she smiled, she looked as young as she was, and far less tired.

“Hood, I...thank you. For everything.”

“Eh.” He could feel himself turning red. “No problem. Just remember you still owe me pictures of the twins after they’re born.”

“Trust me.” Her eyes sparkled. “That’s not going to be a problem either.”

 

* * *

 

It was before dawn a week later when his com started beeping from the nightstand.

Jason groaned and rolled over, pulling a pillow over his head.

“Fuck me, it’s five in the morning,” he complained. Beside him, Roy began to stir. “What the hell does the old man want now?”

“I don’t know, he’s _your_ dad,” Roy said sleepily. “Just get that thing to shut up. And if you have to leave, leave sooner rather than later so I can go back to sleep on the half of the bed you pre-warmed.”

“Rub it in, Harper.”

He grabbed the com, screwing it into his ear and clicking it on.

“Hood.”

“Yeah, it’s Hood. What do you want, Bitch-man?”

He heard Stephanie snickering at that, and Bruce growled low in his throat.

“The gang war in the East End has taken to the streets. Batgirl and Robin and I are occupied with Scarecrow and Hugo Strange, Nightwing’s in Bludhaven with Red Robin, Batwoman’s taking care of Poison Ivy downtown with Signal and Black Bat, and Catwoman’s out of the city for the weekend. You need to go now.”

Jason’s sneering complaints died in his throat. If the gangs were fighting in the streets, civilians were going to get in the way.

_Fine time for the whole family to be tied up._

“Patch me through with Oracle,” he said roughly. “I’m on my way.”

Bruce let out a grunt of acknowledgement, and as he rolled out of bed, Barbara’s voice filled his ears.

“I’ve got the traffic cams,” she said immediately. “It looks rough, Hood; I don’t know if I you can deescalate it in time.”

“If I can’t, those gang members are in for a reckoning.” He grabbed his guns, loading them in a trice. “The East End, and the people in it, are under my protection.”

Roy lifted his head from the pillow, looking concerned. Jason mouthed Tell you later at him.

Barbara let out a long breath through her nose.

“Good luck, Jason. You’re gonna need it.”

“Don’t I fucking know it.”

 

* * *

 

By the time he got there, it was already a crisis.

Men in their twenties and thirties covered in gang tattoos, wearing leather and denim, had formed two half-circles opposite each other, pointing guns and knives and screaming accented insults. The center of the circle was filled with cowering pimps and terrified prostitutes, the women all clutching each other for some small comfort. Civilians and cop cars surrounded the scene, sirens wailing, more men pointing guns and shouting, which did absolutely nothing to help, but which was making quite a few people cry.

“Owe us money first!” bellowed one man with a full beard and a thick Slavic accent. “Pimps have debt to us! Pay us, then worry about you, Fratelli!”

“Fuck their debts to you, Chumak!” Fratelli screeched. “They owe us more! And we do not forget what is owed to us!”

“We can’t afford to pay you both,” one greasy little man whined. “Please, give us more time.”

“Odessa Mob give you plenty of time!” Chumak shouted at him. “You not take enough money from these whores!”

“Please...”

One woman — he saw immediately that it was Miranda — was brave enough to speak up.

“We’re protected!” she cried out. “If they owe you money, take it up with them. But sex workers are protected by the Red Hood!”

“Shut up, slut!” snarled one of Fratelli’s men.

“She’s right,” said another woman. “We _are_ protected. You fuck with us, you’re in for a world of hurt.”

Chumak backhanded her across the face.

Jason had had enough. He hopped off his motorcycle, elbowed a cluster of cops out of the way, then clambered to the top of a squad car and fired three shots into the air.

All of a sudden, all eyes were on him. The prostitutes looked relieved, overjoyed even.

“I’ve got two questions for you all,” he shouted. Through the helmet, his voice echoed over the streets. “What’s the problem here, and why does it involve threatening innocent women?”

“Innocent?” sneered one cop derisively. Jason fired a shot over his head, and he screamed like a stuck pig and cowered.

“Well?” he demanded of the gangs.

Fratelli spoke up first.

“These pimps owe us both money for immunity,” he explained. “But the Ukrainians think their money owed is more important. And apparently, all these idiots didn’t make enough money to pay us both back. So the real questions are: whose debt is more important, and why aren’t these pimps taking in the money they used to?”

“I can answer the second question.” Jason hefted his gun. “Because I forced these pimps to let the women working for them keep more of what they earned, so they don’t have to starve or work stupid hours or take clients who treat them like shit. As to the first question, I really don’t care. But as you still have debt owed to you because of me, your problem is with me, not with these sex workers. So I’ll pay off these men’s debts, you leave the women alone, and everyone wins. Deal?”

Fratelli hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Jason let out a small breath of relief.

Too soon.

“No!” Chumak roared. “Is a debt of honor. These men not get off that easy!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason noticed a woman in a blue dress struggling to get through the crowd, to get to Miranda and a quivering Calvin Raymond. To his horror, he realized that it was Skye.

“They’ve been scared to the point of shitting their pants, I think they’re not getting off easy,” he snapped. “Now shut up and take the deal, or things are going to get unpleasant for you.”

Chumak spat in Jason’s direction, his grip on his gun growing tighter.

Raymond chose then to speak up.

“Per — perhaps you should — should listen to the man, sir,” he told Chumak. “He’s quite dangerous.”

A beat passed.

“ _Dangerous?_ ” roared the Ukrainian. “The Bat’s lapdog? Fuck him, I am dangerous!”

He pointed his gun in Raymond’s direction and fired.

There was a wave of gasps as Miranda screamed and Raymond sobbed in terror. Then the pimp realized that he was unharmed, and he sighed with relief.

But Miranda looked around, and her scream of fear turned into one of horror.

For though the Ukrainian had missed Raymond, he had hit Skye.

Jason stared in numb disbelief as she pressed a hand to the growing red stain on her collarbone, then stared almost blankly as it transferred to her fingers. Then she collapsed.

A kind of coldness overcame Jason. Chumak seemed to manifest the bullet holes in his legs of his own accord before he fell like a puppet with his strings cut, howling in pain. He barely heard the yells of the cops and the shrieks of the civilians, barely noticed the other gang members scattering, didn’t remember how he got from the top of the squad car to the side of his friend as a pool of blood gathered beneath her leg.

Miranda had just gotten her phone out, frantically calling 911, as Jason finally came to his senses, and the whole scene rushed back in full force.

“Skye? Skye! Stay with me!”

He yanked a pad of gauze from the inside of his jacket, pressing it to her bullet wound, trying to slow the bleeding, as she breathed shallowly. Her gaze met his.

“Hood,” she said softly. “I never said thank you. For all that you’ve done.”

“Don’t thank me, just hold on.”

She took a breath.

“Hood, I meant it when I said I — I want the best for my babies. Make sure — make sure they get that.”

“Don’t talk like that, Skye, don’t fuckin’ talk like that. You’re gonna make it.”

“ _Hood_...” She reached up and clutched the sleeve of his jacket, hauling herself up to look him in the eyes better, leaving red smears on the leather. “ _Promise_ me. Make sure they get that.”

He swallowed hard, feeling hot tears prickle his eyes.

“I promise.”

She exhaled.

“Thank you, Hood.”

“Jason.”

His voice was so low nobody else could hear it, not even Miranda.

“My name is Jason.”

She blinked slowly, then smiled at him.

“Thank you, Jason.”

He didn’t know how much time it was until the paramedics arrived, until they loaded her into the ambulance and took her away.

All he knew was that he was still covered in her blood.

 

* * *

 

Barbara found him in the ER waiting room, and took her place next to him. She didn’t say anything for a long time, which he appreciated.

“Do you know if your friend’s going to make it?” she finally asked.

“She’s not.”

Skye’s blood was drying on his clothes, on his hands.

A line came to him from _Macbeth:_

_“Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.”_

He, unlike Lady Macbeth, hadn’t decided to kill Skye, but he hadn’t been able to prevent what had happened. And regret weighed on him for that more than it had ever weighed on him for the people he’d deliberately killed.

Barbara sighed.

“I heard all of it, you know. And there was nothing more you could’ve done to help her, Jason.”

He laughed bitterly.

“I wish I could believe that.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth when a doctor finally emerged from the ER, looking at Jason.

“Are you the one who came with Skye Fields? Todd Harper?”

One of his aliases.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

The doctor sighed.

“We couldn’t save her. I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t a surprise, but it still settled heavy on his heart.

“But we were able to save her babies,” the doctor continued. Jason’s head snapped up. “A pair of healthy twin girls. Six pounds two ounces, and five pounds eight ounces. A little small, but otherwise perfect.”

He eyeballed Jason.

“Are you their father?”

His laugh was still hollow.

“Chances of that are literally less than zero, Doc.”

“Well, unless their father does come to claim them, they’re wards of the state now. They don’t even have names. So I imagine they’ll be going to a foster home soon.”

Jason felt bile rising in his throat. Barbara rested a hand on his shoulder, and she spoke up.

“May we see them?”

“I don’t see why not.”

The walk to the nursery was a blur; Jason found himself staring down at the pair of bassinets before he knew it.

Twin girls. In their matching pink onesies, they were almost perfectly identical: brown-skinned and black-haired with wide-set eyes, like their mother. One of them had thicker hair than her sister, and she lay mostly still in her bassinet, staring up at Jason and Barbara almost questioningly. The other had a small birthmark on her left cheek, and she moved about, squirming and waving her arms like she was agitated somehow.

“Their father isn’t coming, is he?” Barbara asked softly.

“She didn’t even know who their father was.” His gaze was fixed on the babies. “And even if she did, she knew that any of the men who could be their father, wouldn’t want to be.”

She sighed again, bowing her head.

“I can’t even imagine raising my son without his father, let alone the idea of leaving him with no parents at all.”

“They can’t all be Dick Grayson, Barbie.”

Even as they talked, Skye’s last request remained at the forefront of his thoughts: to make sure her babies got the best. He’d _promised_ that. And growing up orphaned in the fucking _system_ was a far, far cry from the best.

As he thought about it, a crazy idea came to mind. A crazy, impulsive, possibly-terrible idea.

The doctor came back in.

“Are you two ready to go?”

“Not quite,” Jason said slowly. “Doc...tell me what would be the protocol for fostering a pair of twins right from the hospital.”

Barbara looked at him in utter shock.

“Oh, and also: get whoever’s going to be writing their birth certificates, and tell them to write down these names...”

 

* * *

 

That was how Tim found them hours later, in the Batcave, utilizing Bruce’s equipment to conduct a blood test. Or trying to.

“Will you hold still, you little gremlin?” Jason was griping at one of the twins, who was trying to pull away from him. “Jesus, how the fuck am I going to take you to get your shots if this is how you’re going to behave during a blood test?”

His arms full of paperwork, Tim gaped at Jason as he brandished a needle, and at Barbara as she prepped the Batcomputer for analysis.

“Uh...Jason...?”

“What, Timbo?” he said absently, finally holding her arm steady.

“I’m kind of scared to ask, but...why do you have two babies?”

He stuck the needle in, and she howled. Tim dropped everything he’d been holding, and Jason pulled out the needle, quickly wiping down the injection site and slapping on a Band-Aid. Barbara scooped her up and held her with one arm, murmuring comfort, as Jason tried to calm down her now-also-upset sister.

“Long story short, their mom died, and she was my friend. So I’m fostering them until I can find them someone fit to adopt. Barbie, I got the blood.”

“Okay, put it in.”

The fingers of her free hand tapped the keys, and the two brothers watched as the computer scanned the girls’ genetics. Still holding the first one, Barbara peered at the screen.

“A quarter of their genetics indicate that they’re of Latin American descent, mostly Mexican, traces of Guatemalan and Nicaraguan,” she announced. “Another quarter indicates Native American descent, primarily Ojibwe and Oglala Lakota, with some Arapaho as well.” She looked at Jason. “I take it those quarters came from their mom?”

He nodded.

“The other half is percentages of miscellaneous Western European origins: English, German, Belgian, French, Scottish...in other words, their father could be any random white guy who solicits prostitutes.”

“Oh, _that_ narrows it down,” Tim said dryly.

Jason held up his free hand.

“Fuck him. Fuck their father. He’s not coming. We gotta look after these little girls, and by we, I mostly mean me.”

“Jay...” Tim said cautiously, “are you sure this is a good idea? I mean...looking after one newborn is hard enough, as Dick and Babs here can tell you, and as we know from babysitting...but two? At the same time?”

“Yeah, no. It, like most of my ideas, is a shitty idea.” He looked down at the infant in his arms, who’d finally calmed down and was staring up at him with her dark brown eyes. “But I don’t have anything better.”

Barbara rolled over, stroking the first baby’s hair until she was calmed down too. Tim sighed, then bent to pick up his scattered paperwork.

“Okay then.” He paused. “So...”

“So what?”

“So what are their names?”

He was quiet for a moment, rocking the girl in his arms.

“I was using my Todd Harper alias when I fostered them, so their legal surname now is Harper.”

Tim’s eyes grew wide.

“This one...” He indicated the one in his arms, the one with the birthmark on her cheek, “is Stella. Stella Catherine Harper. And that one...” He pointed to the one his sister-in-law was holding, “is Luna. Luna Barbara Harper.”

Barbara’s eyes flickered, just like they’d had when he’d first announced their names.

“I named ‘em after Kori and Artemis,” he finished.

Tim’s brow furrowed for a moment, then he nodded.

“Oh, I get it. ‘Stella’ and ‘Luna’ are Latin for ‘star’ and ‘moon.’ Starfire and the goddess of the moon.”

“Exactly.”

Tim seemed to get over some of his apprehension, leaning in and lifting one hand over Stella. The little girl gurgled eagerly, waving her own tiny, wrinkly hand and grasping him by the finger. His younger brother chuckled a bit, smiling.

“I gotta say, they’re awfully cute, Jay.”

“Yeah, that’s cause they only take after their mom.”

_And thank god for that, too._

 

* * *

 

Roy was more than prepared to be concerned, angry, or both by the time Jason got home. Lian pretended to mind her own business doing homework at the kitchen table, but kept one eye on the door and on her father, with his arms folded across his chest, muttering curses in Navajo.

Outside the apartment door, Jason set down the two carriers and the massive amount of baby-related necessities he’d bought, fumbling out his key.

The door opened to a blast of yelling.

“Jason Peter Todd, you _asshole_. Twelve hours; you don’t answer my calls or texts, you don’t call back. You run off to a catastrophe, and you’re gone for twelve hours! How the hell do you think I felt about that? You could’ve been dead for all I knew —”

“Legally, I _am_ dead.”

“You know what I meant!” Roy pointed a finger at him like one of his arrows. “You had better have a damn good story ready for why you put me through that —”

“Daddy,” Lian interrupted, peering around her father and towards the door, “look at what he’s got.”

Roy cut himself off, looking along his daughter’s line of sight. Then his finger fell, and his mouth dropped open until it nearly hit his collarbone.

“...Why do you have two babies.”

Jason launched into a full explanation. The two Harpers were unusually silent during, aside from Lian’s occasional gasps of horror or sorrow.

When he was done, Roy sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping, drawing his flesh hand up and through his hair.

“That _is_ a damn good story. I guess you _gotta_ keep them, then.”

“Temporary,” Jason said gruffly. “Only until I can find a good home for them. I promised Skye the best, and you two aren’t bad, not bad at all, but I’m still more than a little bit of a wreck.”

“Jay...”

“Roy, red-tights-wearing zombie kid ain’t gonna be on the roster for good adoptive parents. Don’t argue with me about this, okay?”

Despite this, Roy looked like he was going to argue some more before Lian cut in.

“Can I see them?”

Jason nodded, and the two of them walked to the door, Roy trailing behind them, which finally woke up Django from her nap on the living room carpet.

“How is it that she didn’t blink through all the yelling, but that’s what woke her up?”

“Go figure dogs.”

The German shepherd bounded forward, intrigued by the new scents greeting her in the hallway. When she came across the twins, she wagged her tail eagerly, then began to lick Luna’s face.

“No! Stop that!” Jason seized her by the collar. “That’s disgusting; we all know where your tongue’s been.”

“They’ll be okay. When I was really little, I used to eat all the food that Uncle Wally dropped on the floor,” Lian told him reasonably, staring in awe at Stella. “And look how I turned out.”

“The floor’s not as gross as Django’s mouth, though,” Roy pointed out.

Stella, for her part, inserted her fist into her mouth and drooled on it, flapping her other hand about in Lian’s direction. Luna, who had been perfectly quiet during the dog’s ministrations, suddenly screwed up her face and wailed and Stella, like before, picked up on her sister’s distress and joined in.

Lian looked upset.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, pumpkin,” Roy said, picking his daughter up, “Babies just get upset easily.”

“Are they both gonna cry like that every time one of them gets upset?”

“...I really hope not.”

Jason rubbed his hand down his face. This fostering thing really was going to be hard.

 

* * *

 

It was the fifth time in three days both girls had woken him up by crying at once. He had taken to catching quick naps on the couch, approximately ten feet from where their cribs had been set up, because it was just too much to drag himself out of his boyfriend’s presence on their nice comfortable bed.

“Fuck me,” he moaned as he heated up the bottles of formula, trying very hard not to pass out face-first into the kitchen counter. “I can’t believe I ever thought taking care of just John was this hard. I envy Dick and Barbara.”

“Y’envy them a lot, Jay?” came the sleepy voice from behind them.

Lian stood in the kitchen doorway in her Black Canary pajamas, rubbing her eyes.

“Ah hell, _princesa_ , I didn’t mean to wake you too.”

“S’okay.” She yawned. “They woke me up, not you.”

Jason yawned too, feeling slightly better.

“Well, if you’re already up, do you think you can help me feed them?”

As it turned out, she could. Luna seemed much larger compared to Lian, but the little girl held her and fed her with ease.

“Maybe you should put them in daycare,” she suggested. “‘Cause you work, and Daddy works, and I got school.”

“I can’t,” he sighed, looking down at Stella in his arms. Her brown eyes were very open, gazing up at him as she fed. “Those damn social workers are going to take that as me being unable to take care of them, and then they’ll go to someone who’ll feed them and shit, but won’t care about them.”

“Well, s’not like you can take ‘em to yours and Daddy’s jobs,” Lian pointed out. She looked thoughtful as Luna finished her bottle. “What you need is a babysitter. I had heaps of babysitters ‘fore I started school.”

Jason propped both babies on his shoulders and began patting their backs in turn.

“Alright. So, who can I find in Gotham who’ll a) watch them without getting suspicious about my and your dad’s jobs, and b) won’t turn out to be a murderer? I mean, granted, the odds of there being more than one murderer in the same house are probably astronomical, but —”

Lian looked at him meaningfully.

 

* * *

 

 

Apparently, Tim had snitched on him, because not a single one of them were surprised.

“I am so glad we have more babies now,” Stephanie exclaimed, accepting Stella’s carrier with open delight.

“Yeah, you only say that because you haven’t changed their diapers yet,” Jason said as Dick bent before the carriers, waving and mouthing “hi” ecstatically. “Also, don’t get too used to them, this is a temporary thing, you know.”

While Steph and Cass admired Stella, Duke picked Luna out of her carrier. She patted him on the cheek while her sister actually smiled for Cass and Steph; both actions were rewarded by a slew of cooing.

“I think we’re used to them,” Dick smiled. Jason rolled his eyes at him.

“Unbelievable. They never behave that well for _me_.”

“I think they can pick up on people who’ll potentially spoil them,” Barbara remarked, rolling over to him with her own baby on her lap. He looked up at Jason through his lashes hopefully, looking remarkably like his father in that moment.

Jason rolled his eyes again, but then he smiled slightly as he picked up his nephew.

“Alright, so...you’ve all been around babies at this point, you all know the drill. If one of them starts crying, the other probably will just because she’s upset by her sister, there’s usually nothing actually wrong with her. Before you ask: you can tell them apart by the birthmark on Stella’s cheek. Also, I put them in different colors, because I’m not an idiot who plans to confuse myself just because it might be ‘cute.’”

“I think they’re cute nonetheless,” Steph said, kissing Stella on the forehead. The baby gurgled happily, while the one in Jason’s arms giggled.

 _You’d never know what our jobs were to look at us,_ he thought. His nephew snuggled up to him happily.

 

* * *

 

It was his first time back in the East End after Skye’s death. A month had already passed, and it had simultaneously felt like no time and all the time in the world.

He’d paid the gangs their money via anonymous packages of cash, thus prolonging his time back even more. But he had to come back. If he stopped working in an area because someone had died there, he’d have nowhere and no one in Gotham left to fight for.

Though he was surprised to see the sex workers take note of his presence and rush to greet him happily like they’d always had.

“We missed you, Hood,” Miranda said breathlessly. “Thanks for getting the gangs off all our backs.”

“Yeah, those assholes were sniffing around for months,” Rosemary agreed, resting her hand on his shoulder. “God knows what would’ve happened if you hadn’t intervened in time.”

They asked him how he was doing, if the Bats were going to come creeping around any time soon so they wouldn’t get a shock. Then:

“Do you know what happened to Skye’s babies?” Fay asked.

The others fell silent. Jewel cleared her throat and ran her hands through her curly cloud of hair, looking away.

Jason realized what they were thinking: that the babies were either dead, or shipped off to some home.

“They’re safe,” he assured them. “And they’re in good hands, I promise.”

By which he meant Roy’s.

And _sort of_ also his family’s.

They all looked surprised, before they began to smile again. Jewel looked like she might actually cry with relief.

“Well, if _you_ vouch for them...” Rosemary’s eyes crinkled. “They _must_ be good hands.”

He must’ve jerked back as he took in her words, because Scarlett picked up on his surprise.

“Four years of fighting for kids, rape victims, poor people, abuse victims, hookers like us, everyone that gets left out or falls through the cracks...” She shrugged. “I don’t know about you, but that sure sounds good to me.”

 

* * *

 

He was still digesting her words as he fed Luna later that night. Sure, he did what he felt was right. What he knew was right in some cases, Bruce’s rules be damned.

But _good?_

 _Was_ he good?

Over a year of working alongside his family as well as on his own terms, and he’d never even considered that he might be.

He glanced down at the little girl. She was wearing a Batgirl onesie that Barbara had gotten her; she slowly settled into his embrace, almost enveloped by how big his arms were, her eyelashes fluttering shut.

Though he couldn’t see himself as good, he still felt a rush of warmth in his chest as he kept holding her.

 

* * *

 

Damian’s thirteenth birthday rolled around, and after the party, after Alfred’s huge cake had been devoured, the whole family were camped out around the Manor’s living room, groaning with food. Even Ace, Titus, and Django lay across the carpet, taking naps of their own; Django’s paws twitched in her sleep. The only one absent was Bruce, helping Alfred clean up the dining room.

“I may never eat again,” Duke sighed. Tim whined inarticulately in agreement.

Damian, for his part, looked smug, although that might have been because he had all three babies lying on his chest.

“Most of you needn’t have shown up,” he told them all, “but your reverence of me on my birthday is still noted and appreciated.”

“Finally a teenager, but still a smug little shit,” Jason snarked at him. Damian flipped him off, much to Dick’s consternation.

Jason just chuckled and leaned against the back of the couch. Cass and Barbara leaned against him on either side, and the babies dozed. His siblings were bickering, but not fighting. Bruce wasn’t telling anyone off.

That was about all that he could ask for.

 

* * *

 

Roy’s kisses were warm to the point of fiery, his strong, calloused hand sweeping over Jason’s shoulders, pulling him close. The two of them, sitting up in the bed, had already disposed of their pants and Roy’s prosthetic, and their shirts weren’t far behind.

It wasn’t until Jason was lying flat on his back with Roy kissing at his neck that he said:

“Hey, Harper?”

“Mmm...?”

“What do you see in me?”

Roy pulled back, looking surprised and confused.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you find lovable or even likable about...” He gestured to himself. “Because honestly, we’ve been together for over a year, and I have no idea how that happened.”

Roy sat back, combing his hand through his hair.

“I could ask you the same question. What do _you_ see in _me?_ ”

“How could you...” He cleared his throat. “You’re loving, you’re loyal, you’re forgiving, you have so much faith in...you’re so good. Damn it, how could you not see that?”

“How could you not see what’s worthwhile about _you?_ ” Roy sounded aggravated.

“Comes with the murder and the severe trauma,” he said with exaggerated cheeriness.

“Okay.” Roy leaned in a little further, exhaling. “Okay. Alright. Jaybird, why did you take in those little girls?”

He was so taken aback he answered completely honestly.

“They needed help, they needed someone. I felt for that. It’d be best if they had a dad or someone coming for them, but they don’t have a best option yet. And in lieu of there being a best option, they had to have an option that at least cared about them, was willing to be there. And I guess I was willing to be that.”

“Okay. Yeah. Your compassion, that...that right there is a big part of why I love you.”

Jason felt what had to have been every inch of skin heating up, flushing at those words. For a moment, they were both silent.

“Fuck, I suck at this. I —”

“Shut up, Harper,” Jason said affectionately, pulling him back down.

The bedroom seemed warmer than it had ever been.

 

* * *

 

Thanksgiving came and went in a flash, and all of a sudden Gotham had its holiday spirit in the air. The temperature dropped swiftly and the snows arrived with little fanfare, burying the dirt under layers of white, just as the towers of steel and concrete were bedecked in colored lights. Even Gotham City looked beautiful in early winter, like an aging starlet with properly applied makeup.

But Red Hood wasn’t looking for beauty.

His informant was a ragged woman in a long tan coat, her hair grizzled prematurely, her face grimmer than usual.

“The Odessa Mob’s been restless for the last two months,” she told him. “Word’s spreading — even though Ivan Chumak’s knees have healed since you shot him, he’s still crippled. Nobody’s taking him as seriously anymore; what’s also spreading is that the Kosovs are looking for a new lieutenant.” She paused. “You do realize that if Chumak does get demoted, he’s going to be out for revenge against you.”

Jason huffed out a breath.

“Let me worry about Chumak,” he told her, before handing over a few more bills. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, the rumors are true, Fratelli and the rest of the Falcones’ men are definitely easing off the East End pimps and madams.”

“Good.” Jason squared his shoulders. “That reminds me, I gotta go threaten some of those pimps and madams. Just because the mobs are easing off them, they are not gonna have free license to try picking on the women working for them. I still owe them that.”

His informant raised her gray eyebrows.

“Your philanthropy never fails to amaze me, Hood.”

“That’s one word for it, I suppose.”

 

* * *

 

Despite himself, he liked visiting Dick’s and Barbara’s home. Even as the cold settled in, the Clock Tower was toasty warm, and Barbara always had food available, and a pot of tea or coffee on to brew. Even when they were working, his brother and sister-in-law usually seemed content. John was always crawling about underfoot, but also always seemed to be happy, possibly because recently he’d taken his first staggering steps.

When Jason came in to drop off the twins for them to babysit, his nephew was especially happy, nestled in his mother’s arms as she fed him his breakfast. He set down the carriers, and Barbara glanced up.

“Good to see all three of you,” she said lightly. “Could you —?”

He took the baby from her arms and put him against his shoulder, patting him on the back as Barbara buttoned her shirt back up. He suddenly realized just how easy this kind of thing had become, just like second nature.

“How have they been?” she asked.

“Stella had a cold a few days ago; she’s over it now, but still might cry more easily. Luna’s still fussy about being put down for a nap, but we just found out that she really likes R&B, it’ll send her right off. Otherwise, you know what you’re doing.”

Dick emerged from the next room, having just gotten into his police uniform. His face brightened at seeing his family members, carefully taking his son from Jason’s arms, cooing affectionately at the baby. Jason didn’t even roll his eyes at Dick’s open display of affection like he might’ve a couple months ago.

“Careful with my girls, Dickface.”

Dick’s head snapped up. Barbara raised her eyebrows.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be careful with your girls, Little Wing.”

He realized what he’d said.

“ _Shit_. Fuck. I meant, careful with _the_ girls.”

“Did you?” Barbara remarked.

“Yes. Damn it. I did.”

“Jay, you’ve been taking care of them and loving them for two months now,” Dick pointed out. “They _could_ be your girls, if you want that. And I think you do.”

“I think you’re wrong,” he blurted, backing up towards the door.

“ _Jay_ ,” Barbara said more forcefully. He froze. “You may say that we’re wrong, but you should think about it. Because if you want to keep these babies, you need to decide that for yourself before you let someone else adopt them.”

He hesitated a while more, looking back at their family, and at the little girls he’d been taking care of, in the carriers he’d bought them.

Then he pushed through the door and left without another word.

 

* * *

 

Oracle didn’t call him again until a quiet Saturday evening a few days later. Lian had finished her homework, and Jason watched a movie with the little girl snuggled up into his side. From the kitchen, Roy cleaned up post-dinner, and the babies had both gone to sleep. But as their cribs were so close to the couch, Jason couldn’t put his slip-up out of his mind.

 _My girls. I said they were_ my _girls._ Did _I mean that? Do I love them?_

Stella snuffled quietly in her sleep, and Jason felt the usual rush of warmth in his chest.

_I mean, not even being turned into a rampaging, murderous sack of Lazarus water affected my ability to love. I still loved my family, even when I was beating on Dick and Bruce, trying to kill Tim. I didn’t even talk to Barbara for months, I didn’t even try to get to know Cass and Steph at first. I loved Kyle, I love Donna, even though I was a total asshole to them both. I love Kori, I love Bizarro, I love Artemis, at least I haven’t fucked that up. I started getting better when I founded the Outlaws, but it’s only been over the last year and a half that I’ve really improved. I don’t regret the people I shot and decapitated and set on fire, they were all awful people who had it coming...but I do regret hurting the people I love. I’m supposed to only hurt people who hurt others, and what did even my stupid brothers ever do that was so evil?_

_God, but did I hurt them. Wouldn’t even talk to them...wouldn’t let them try to apologize. Too proud to have a goddamn conversation without yelling. So maybe I’ve fucking gotten better. Maybe I’m finally self-aware enough to actually consider all this now. I still did all that, didn’t I? Who am I to be responsible for the upbringing of two little girls? Obvious flaws and all, Lian’s father is undoubtedly good, and so are the other Titans...these girls would have me as their father. Who tried to kill their uncles and their grandfather. Even if I do love them..._ His heart twisted. _I can’t keep them._

He was startled out of that line of thinking by his com beeping. He pulled it out of his jeans pocket and twisted it into his ear.

“Red Hood —” Barbara sounded frantic, “— please tell me you’re available.”

“I’m available, Oracle. What’s going on?”

Lian lifted her head and looked at him.

“The Odessa Mob was supposed to be preoccupied tonight, but Ivan Chumak’s not with them. He’s downtown, in the East End — and he’s threatening a crowd of civilians. He’ll saying he’ll kill them if you don’t show up within the hour.”

Jason sat up straight, his heart reaching up into his throat. At the same time, a familiar stab of hatred twisted through him.

“I’ll be there within half that,” he promised, immediately getting up to grab his uniform and his gear, pausing only to click the bullets into his handguns.

“Jason, you realize this is a trap.”

“Obviously. But what’s the alternative, let Chumak kill them? Not fucking likely.”

Barbara exhaled softly through her nose.

“I understand. Just keep me linked.”

“I always do, Barbie. I always do.”

 

* * *

 

  
The usual street that Rosemary liked to take to find clients was clogged with terrified civilians. Malnourished kids, rough-looking men, ragged-looking women. Rosemary herself had managed to avoid Chumak’s attention, hiding inside a strip club while shielding Fay at her side, the two women almost invisible from the street. He caught a glimpse of Rosemary’s face; she was about to crumple, tears on her face even as she protected the younger woman.

Chumak was clearly unsteady on his feet, resting against a crutch, and his face was red and booming with mindless fury as he brandished an assault rifle at civilians on Red Hood’s turf for the second time in two months. The hatred coiling in Jason’s chest on the other hand, was cold and deliberate, only offset by the roar of protectiveness for the people before him.

The motorcycle roared to a halt, and Chumak turned to face him.

“Hood!” he bellowed. “You ruin me. You cripple me. For what? For life of a whore?”

Jason stepped off the motorcycle, marching deliberately towards Chumak.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what it was for.”

Chumak turned the assault rifle in his direction, which was exactly what he’d been hoping for. The civilians began to get to their feet, slowly sneaking away, then running, all while their tormentor was preoccupied with Jason.

“You will pay, Hood.”

“Maybe, but hey —”

Jason whipped out his handguns, pointing them right back at Chumak. Police sirens wailed in the distance, way too late, but he didn’t care.

“— I’ve been paying my whole life. To lots of people. And a lot of them were fat and ugly too, so it’s not like you stand out or anything.”

Chumak snarled, his grip tightening. But all the civilians had managed to escape by then, way out of range of the rifle. That was all that mattered to Jason.

That and making absolutely sure Chumak didn’t do this _ever again_. Maybe he wouldn’t kill him. But he would make him _wish_ he was dead.

Jason took a breath, then began to aim...

Until a familiar shadow grew over the two of them.

“That’s enough,” growled the equally familiar voice.

They both whipped around to see him —

Bruce. Standing there under the long shadows of dusk, casting one of his own across the dirty snow. Even under the cheap neon light, he still seemed almost a solid silhouette of black.

“Both of you. Put the guns down. _Now_.”

Jason was so incredulous that he couldn’t even speak.

Chumak did not have that problem.

“Go away, Bat!” he shouted, his full attention on Bruce now. “Is between me and Hood!”

“It’s between you and me now,” Bruce replied. “Put down the gun. Don’t make me say it again.”

“He crippled me!” Chumak raged. “Crippled me, to avenge a whore! Her life worthless! Lives of everyone here worthless! Not worth even a _kopiyky_ , much less not a bullet!”

Jason took aim again —

But Bruce moved faster than most would believe possible, grabbing Jason’s forearm and driving it upwards —

— A shot fired —

— Chumak, unexpectedly, collapsed to the ground.

Both Bruce and Jason stared.

The shot had gone wide after all. But standing behind Chumak’s unconscious form as a huge lump rose on his head, was Fay, holding a length of lead pipe, her shoulders tight with resolution. She looked down at the man at her feet.

“For Skye,” she said softly. “The cops’ll have him now.”

Rosemary then came running over, finally catching up, gathering the younger woman back in her arms, both of them crying and hugging each other.

The wail of the sirens grew closer; the cops were only a couple minutes away. Bruce looked at the two women, and then he met Jason’s gaze.

“Hood,” he said in a tone that left no room for argument, “we need to talk.”

Jason glared at him.

 

* * *

 

Bruce drove the Batmobile to the far side of Robinson Park and got out, walking out over the frozen ground before coming to a halt. He cut an odd figure, with his cape trailing out behind him, leaving tiny sweeping patterns over the snow. The night was cold, but unusually clear, and both of their breath came out in clouds.

Jason pulled off his helmet and walked up over to him.

“I wasn’t gonna kill Chumak,” he said brazenly. “Though it would’ve been no great loss...I was just gonna put him in traction.”

“Hmm.”

The lack of response fueled Jason to talk more.

“And that’s not at all worse than what you do, so don’t you dare lecture me. You go out and you threaten and you beat people to a pulp because they might threaten or hurt somebody else, and you know what, I’m not in the mood for you treating me or any of the rest of us like shit for the same thing. Because don’t deny it, you do, you have seriously treated your own family like shit before, no matter how much you say you love us now. She _died_ , Bruce!” He was yelling now. “She died! Any of those others could’ve gone the same way!

I told you before, and I’m telling you now, don’t care what you think, even if I have to go over your head to do it, I am not going to stop protecting those people my way. I know what their lives are like. I know where they came from. And we may have jack shit in common about this —”

“Actually,” Bruce rumbled, cutting him off, “you have more in common with me that you think.” He sounded almost amused, while Jason stared at him incredulously again. “I have done things that I regret, most of which involves hurting the people I love...I’m not the best father or friend or partner, I know. But you’re at my side again, Jason, despite everything. If you’re giving me that chance, when you have every right to still hate me, why can’t you extend the same to yourself?”

Jason was utterly dumbfounded.

Bruce sighed softly, then pulled back his cowl. He had new scars, his black hair was edged with gray, and his eyes were lined. But he wore the exact same smile that he’d had when he’d discovered that his Batmobile tires were missing, nine years ago.

“I should say...I’m proud of you and your siblings for how far you’ve come. For what you’ve built, together and on your own. But I...I get on you for bickering because I still can’t help but worry what would happen if you fell apart again.”

“What...aw hell, Bruce. No. Bickering sometimes with Dick or Tim or Damian is just kinda fun, that’s all.” Jason’s lips flicked up despite himself. “Like how you pick on the Lanterns and Clark. I don’t hate Dick or Tim anymore, and even the little brat, heh, him I never hated.”

Bruce’s pale blue eyes, which normally seemed like chips of ice, were startlingly warm.

“Then you shouldn’t hate yourself, Jay-lad.”

Jason felt his cheeks heat up in the cold air.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

“Hmm. Fair.”

They stood beside each other in silence for a few moments, watching the city lights flicker and their breaths puff out into condensation.

“Did we have good times together? Did you...”

Jason chuckled softly.

“Those were the best years of my life. But shit changes, Bruce. Y’can’t stay the same. I’m not the kid I was.”

Bruce huffed a bit.

“I hate...if I could, I would make it so that you’d only ever been happy and content, with your life, and with yourself, surrounded by people who love you and who you love. But I can’t. So I want you to be happy _now_ , Jay. Surrounded by people who love you and who you love. It will make you better.”

Jason just looked at him.

“I swear it. Because it’s true after all. I always needed you and your siblings. You all _do_ make me better. You all offer me a second chance, to be more than what I was.” Bruce met his gaze. “Like I said, there are many things that I regret. But having my children? I will _never_ regret that.”

Jason couldn’t help it, he was starting to get choked up. He pressed a hand to his mouth, gasping, blinking rapidly as tears leaked out of his eyes from the freezing air and onto his burning cheeks. But a strong, steady hand reached out to touch his shoulder, hesitating for a moment — before both hands pulled him close, and Jason found himself caught in his father’s embrace.

He closed his eyes and welcomed it, and in that moment, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

 

* * *

 

Roy was waiting for him again when he got home.

“Jaybird, what happened —?”

Jason threw his helmet and mask to the side, then ran forward and caught him around the shoulders, almost crashing into him as they kissed.

When they broke apart, Roy looked more than slightly blindsided.

“Okay, not that that wasn’t hot as fuck, but it doesn’t answer my question.”

Jason grinned enormously.

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s all good now. Roy, I think I’ve finally come to a decision about the girls. Also, some more of my daddy issues and my zombie-kid issues might’ve just been resolved.”

Roy’s grin soon matched him for brightness.

“I knew you could do it,” he breathed. Then paused. “Wait, you’re not joking, are you?”

“Why the fuck would you think I was joking?”

“It’s hard to tell with you.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

He did, twice, both of them breathless.

“I want to keep them,” Jason gasped. “I want them to be my daughters.”

Roy kissed him again, and Jason knew. Not only was this the right thing to do, but that it would help, not hurt. It would save, not destroy. He needed this: to love, and to be loved.

“Hey, Harper? One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Will you marry me?”

 

* * *

 

The adoption papers were submitted just in time for the holidays, while fresh snow sparkled on the grounds and the smell of Alfred’s cooking filled the entire Manor. The cat and dogs lay before the crackling fireplace; Django, who’d been a rescue, had her tongue lolling out in total happiness. Though it was too early yet for Christmas, all the candles burned bright in Martha Wayne’s old menorah.

Ivan Chumak had been convicted on all charges. The East End sex workers would be safe from the gangs from now on. Jason was going to be married with daughters.

The news was greeted with thunderous applause from the rest of the family.

“I knew it was worth it to get used to them,” Dick said delightedly, running over to hug both his brother and one of his best friends. “I’m so happy for both of you. Although to be frank, I don’t know which of you I should warn against breaking the other’s heart.”

“How about you just skip past that?”

Barbara just smiled at him, her son on her lap.

 _Good job,_ she mouthed to him. _I’m proud of you._

“Hey, we’re gonna have nieces!” Tim said happily.

“Please,” Damian scoffed. “They’re _already_ our nieces. Besides, now we also have to get used to Harper’s stupid face, which I suppose was inevitable, considering how well suited those dunderheads are to each other.”

“They are, aren’t they?” Duke agreed while he braided Lian’s hair.

“Yeah, I knew that forever ago,” she said seriously. “So I’ve had dibs on being their flower girl for months. Luna and Stella may be my sisters now, but they’re gonna have to wait.”

“Does this mean you’re gonna be related to Dinah?” Steph whispered to Cass, and they both looked thrilled at the prospect.

Bruce hummed contentedly, then nodded to Roy.

“Take good care of my son and my granddaughters,” he said seriously. “I mean it, Harper. You had better. They mean a lot to us.” Then he muttered to himself, apparently thinking it was too quiet to be overheard: “Oh god preserve me, I’m going to be related to Oliver Queen.”

The whole family overheard. All of them, including Roy, roared with laughter.

Grinning, Jason situated himself on the rug, next to where his daughters slept in their carriers. The family’s chatter, the crackling of flames in the living room hearth, and those little girls’ peaceful snuffling.

Skye’s memory could be honored, and his promise to her would be kept. The girls would never see their blood parents, but they would have a father, they would have two parents who loved them. The best that Jason could give them.

He pushed a lock of dark hair from Luna’s forehead and thought of _The Alchemist._

_“When we love, we always strive to become better than we are. When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too.”_

Maybe he wasn’t fully good yet, or never would be fully good. He certainly had done plenty of bad things in his time. But for the sake of others, he had tried to amend his wrongs, to amend others’ wrongs, to fight, to do good.

For the sake of _these_ others, he would only continue to.


End file.
